


Stalking for Fun and Profit

by Rowaine



Series: Playtime [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Mental babbling, Toy Kink, pre-D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3617193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealing with fallout, and how to catch the wild Xanpet in his natural environment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalking for Fun and Profit

**Series:** Playtime  
  
**Title:** Stalking for Fun and Profit  
  
**Author:** Rowaine (rowained@yahoo.com)  
  
**Fandom:** BtVS  
  
**Rating:** FRAO. It's downhill from here.  
  
**Summary:** Dealing with fallout, and how to catch the wild Xanpet in his natural environment.

 **Warnings:** Toy!kink, hints at future Dom/sub, suggested spanking, and rambling mental babble.  
  
**Pairings:** Mentions of Xander/Cordelia and Xander/Willow, but primary focus is (of course) Spander.  
  
**Setting:** Definitely AU. Anyone who's seen the series more than once will recognize that I've tampered with the timeline. Work with me, k?  
  
**Disclaimer:** If Joss knew what I have planned for his characters, there would be a restraining order on my ass.  
   
   


**Stalking for Fun and Profit**

 

 **Fall, 1997 -- two weeks later**  
  
Every last cent of his savings had gone into sweets and flowers. Three summers' worth of mowing lawns, running errands, painting and planting and scooping puppy poop... gone. All for nothing.   
  
The frost was slowly melting away from Buffy's "hi Xan", but still no signs of a smile. Cordelia wasn't nearly as hurt as she proclaimed -- loudly, and to whomever was in earshot -- she just liked to have something to bitch about. He was so very thrilled to provide her with ammunition. _Can you say "self-inflicted gunshot wound"?_ And Willow... his cuddly, crayon-sharing, oldest and dearest and bestest friend... still couldn't look him in the eyes.   
  
After Queen C went on a righteously indignant rant, every person living in Sunnydale over the age of three now knew that Xander Harris was beneath pond scum and was a cheating bastard who had kissed someone else's girlfriend. Every person, including Oz. Leaving Willow sans boyfriend. They weren't officially broken up, but he wanted to "give her time to really think about what she wanted". Which lead to even more tears and whimpers and Xander-less hugs of sympathy.  
  
His field trip to hell? Extended by unanimous vote.  
  
Even Giles was acting all pissy. Well, more than usual. Sometimes it was hard to tell with all the stiff upper lipness.  
  
To make matters worse, Xander kept finding little notes and trinkets. Outside his basement door, in his school locker, in his _gym_ locker, even in his backpack. Each was unsigned, but he wasn't as dumb as he acted. If the faint smell of cigarette smoke wasn't a clue, the wording was a dead giveaway. No pun intended.  
  
_Hey pet,  
  
Haven't heard from ya, thought I'd drop a reminder.  
Still around and willing to do ya right._  
  
Xander couldn't help but wonder what Spike meant. To do him right? Did that mean to do right by him, or to **do him**? Either way was creepy and stalkery and... gave him a tiny thrill. That he refused to admit to having, even to himself in the dark of night when the subconscious ran wild with unresolved fantasies and desires and **so** not helping his case any.  
  
In the past ten days, he had been the recipient of three different kinds of lube, two dildos (one shaped like a snake, the other... defied description), a really expensive vibrator that he'd had his eye on for ages but couldn't afford, and a pair of leather cuffs. He preferred to ignore the blow-up doll -- even with slick, that was one toy he never wanted hands-on experience with.  
  
If he was completely honest with himself, the notes were... sorta sweet. In that strange, oh my god what have I gotten myself into way.   
  
The final bell rang and Xander joined the herd of high school students pouring out into the halls. He stopped by his locker to put away his textbooks, reminding himself that there was an English Lit paper due on Monday that he really should work on over the weekend.   
  
He twirled the combination lock into place, snapped the latch, and held out both hands to prevent the landslide that generally happened any time he was forced to venture into No Man's Land. Much to his surprise, nothing jumped out at him. Only two hours before, he had nearly been late to Chemistry thanks to the mountain of junk falling out of his locker. Now... it was neat and tidy, and so organized that Willow would definitely be jealous. A bright pink post-it note stuck to the upper shelf, the familiar penmanship sending tingles to assorted body parts.  
  
_Xan,  
  
Getting tired of waiting. Got places to go, people to eat.  
Last chance -- meet me tonight at 8pm, outside the theatre._  
  
Grabbing his Lit book and binder, Xander took the note and stuck it to the inner cover of his notebook. _And since I'm not really wanted for research or patrol, maybe I'll show up. The worst he can do is eat me, right?_

~ * ~

  
Even after two full weeks of walking home alone, he still wasn't used to how little time it took to get there. No one to talk with, exchange meaningful complaints about mutual classes and nightmarish teachers with. No one to keep the loneliness at bay.  
  
It wasn't quite five o'clock by the time he dumped his backpack on his bed, toed off his sneakers, and grabbed a quick snack. He had plenty of time to decide whether it was worthwhile to risk life, limb and virginity by meeting Spike. And there was still a slight possibility that Willow or Buffy would call him, asking why he wasn't doing the research thing or if he was joining patrol.  
  
He wasn't going to hold his breath.  
  
Actually, what he planned on doing was taking a long, hot, soapy, sexy fun shower. Because nothing clears a man's head like getting off. _What's that movie quote? Oh yeah -- "the poison has left the building". Can't remember which movie it came from, was funny though. And you're failing miserably at distraction techniques today, Xanman. Just give it up and accept the fact that you're looking forward to a date with the undead._  
  
Seeing as how he was going to do the Grand Tour of Hell for the foreseeable future, Xander gave up, gave in, and grabbed his new favorite toy. He knew exactly how much the multi-speed vibrator (with cordless remote, easy to clean exterior, and gyrating head) must've cost. Unless Spike had stolen it, which wasn't beyond the realm of belief. Not that he really cared. Sex toy manufacturers charged way too much for a bit of latex and aluminum.  
  
His dad wouldn't be home for hours, not on Friday night. Poker and a keg at his Uncle Rory's place always took precedence over coming home to the wife and kid. And his mom was already out too, probably with her bingo buddies, getting quietly buzzed on cheap wine before they dobbed their way through the rainbow. _Home, alone, with brand new batteries. Whatever shall I do?_  
  
The answer to that was beyond simple -- quality time with his dick, courtesy of the demonic wet dream that refused to be ignored.   
  
He quickly stripped down to nothing, made sure the deadbolts were in place, and prowled over to his fine new selection of toys. The choice was far from a brain-teaser. Xander picked up his preference and grabbed a couple of slightly used towels, he laid down on the bed and got comfortable. Lube in reach, check. Vibrator of his dreams, double check. Latest _AssMasters_ magazine that he'd been saving for just such an occasion, oh yeah. One towel beneath his hips, the other within easy reach, and he was primed for fun.  
  
_He'd probably be a gentle kisser, no matter how aggressive he acts and talks. And his hands were so soft. I'll bet he was some sort of scholar or nobleman or something before he was turned. Cus that accent? Is so very fake. Doesn't matter -- it's still sexy as hell. Everything about him is. Even his gameface, in a really scary way. When his eyes went all gold, I nearly creamed my pants. God! Never ever ever telling **that** to the girls! They'd either lock me away, or toss me in the center of a pentagram and try to de-possess me. Again._  
  
As any young man could verify, Xander's rambling thought processes did little to cool his need for relief. There comes a point when no amount of distraction will interrupt the southbound blood flow. For Xander that point struck... at least five or six times a day. Should he worry? Nope. He was a healthy, growing boy. And all those twinkies had to be good for something. Excess energy, preservatives, and who knows what the cream filling was good for (or made from). And speaking of cream fillings... let's jerk off!  
  
He was already primed, hard just from picking out a toy and knowing he had peaceful, uninterrupted time where he didn't need to be quiet. The magazine lay unopened beside him as he grabbed the slick and squirted out the appropriate amount. One, two, three fingers in quick succession pushed their way past the snug ring of his asshole. Yes, he had plenty of time, but Xander enjoyed the sharp burn of a quick preparation. He gave himself a dozen fast thrusts before removing his fingers and slathering the remaining slick across the vibrator.  
  
_Oh yeah baby, you and I are gonna be great friends. I should find a name for you, something sexy and easy to cry out when you make me come._ His eyes rolled at the anthropomorphist thought. _Alright, so maybe that's a little much. Still, it's less of a wiggins than calling out a vampire's name._  
  
That tiny little voice in the back of his head that always sounded like Willow's mom gave him a jolt of reality: Calling out a vampire's name was only a half step away from what he was currently doing -- accepting and using a vampire's gift.  
  
_Yeah, yeah, shut the hell up. We've got more important things to do than argue semantics, right? Like this impressive piece of manmeat just begging for a hard stroke or twenty, and that gorgeous cylinder of silicon -- with cordless remote and all the trimmings -- that is gonna feel **so damn good** as soon as you stop nagging me, and let me get on with it._  
  
The little voice shut the hell up. Xander got on with it. All was right in his world.  
  
He tested the remote on each setting, the toy's surface glistening with lube. Once assured that everything worked properly, he wasted no time in rubbing the head up and down his crack. A deep rumbling sound came unbidden from his throat at the heavenly sensations. The cool plastic head wasn't as smooth as his old toys, with the texture and ridges of an actual cock. One of the more unique features of this model was its resemblance to an uncut erection. Xander's brain-voice muttered something about nineteenth century babies not being circumcised, and wasn't it convenient how Spike was preparing him for the difference? This time, he chose to ignore the voice of logic.  
  
Inch by inch he fed the vibrator into his ass, a running commentary of how wonderful it fit, felt, filled keeping the annoying voice on the edge of apoplexy. When he went just past the halfway mark, Xander flicked the remote to gyrate... and nearly flew off the bed. Little swirly motions brushed against his prostate, not having to worry about angles and depth -- thanks to the miracles of modern engineering, this baby would conform to his needs. At that point, Xander fell just a little in love with his devilish benefactor.  
  
He wasn't going to last long, high strung and in desperate need of stress relief. Making sure that the vibrator was firmly embedded, he flicked open _AssMasters_ to the centerfold. And moaned loudly. It wasn't an exact match, but the couple enjoying each other's "affections" in the picture were an eerie match for him and Spike. A wiry blonde knelt behind a tanned brunet, his healthy cock caught forever halfway inside, a bright pink handprint marking his bottom's bottom. _Oh fuck, is that what we'd look like? Would he spank me for real, or do it light and teasing?_  
  
The next page held a short story detailing how the men in the picture got together, what their favorite positions were, and a few tips on how to give a better blowjob. He flipped to the next page, which showed the same couple, but this time with the brunet riding the blonde's cock. The shot was taken from behind, giving the perfect view of a thoroughly penetrated asshole. He really, badly wanted to experience that for himself. And since no one else was volunteering, it looked like he was going to take a chance with a certain centurion vampire.  
  
Just the thought of giving in to his personal wet dream had Xander exploding in minutes.

  1. ~ * ~




  
A darker section of shadow outside the basement's only window moved a fraction of an inch. The show had definitely been worth taking a risk of the last half hour of daylight. He didn't know if his boy would give in because of his threat, and just had to watch the sweet one playing with his pressies.   
  
After the lovely performance he'd witnessed, Spike was fairly confident of the evening's outcome. That lovely boy, moaning _his_ name as jets of creamy semen painted long stripes across his smooth chest. By the time Xander had wiped down and put away, Spike had his button fly opened and was brutally stroking himself to the memories of sight, sound and smell.  
  
_Might not be ready to admit it, but my little pet is ripe for the picking. And all mine._


End file.
